are important things to talk about. I need to understand how you're
feeling, and whether-"
"-whether or not I'm going to
try to kill myself again, right?" I finished, craning my neck to peer over
to the hallway. Was there anyone who could come in and save me from this quack?
I was almost desperate enough to see if Erica was available. Almost.
He sighed so quietly, it was barely
audible. "Yes," he said simply. "Talk to me. Tell me what's on
your mind. Why do the rumors bother you so much?"
I was growing more and more
impatient with him for reasons I did not understand. "I don't mean to be
rude or anything, Dr. Hearse, but do you mind coming back later? I kind of want
to sleep now. I'm feeling… tired ."
A moment passed, and I dared to
look back at him to see his reaction. He pursed his lips, thinking, and then
nodded slowly. "Yes, of course. I'll come back when you're feeling better.
If you feel like talking to me before then, let one of the nurses know, and
they'll get me, okay?" He didn't wait for my reply before heading towards
my door. He opened it, started to walk through, then paused and turned to face
me briefly. "And it's Dr. Hirsch, not Hearse, just in case you weren't
sure."
I chuckled briefly, which surprised
me. "Hearse is better."
He smiled to himself before walking
out the door.
Chapter 5
I didn't and wouldn't accept that
Friend would never appear to me again, never again encourage me and listen to
my words of sadness.
I had never intended to create him,
but he filled in the gaps of the worn-out road of my life.
An older memory—my fifth and last
hospital dream—reminded me of this.
* * *
I'm 7 years old. On TV, I see a
little story. A girl climbs on the couch with her mommy. The mommy smiles and
gets out a mug of hot chocolate. She gives it to the girl. They both laugh and
hug. The girl drinks her hot chocolate.
I run to the room where my mommy is sitting. I would also like to hug Mommy and drink hot chocolate. If
she does not have hot chocolate, that would be OK. Maybe we could make some
together. That might even be funner! I might make a mess or get some chocolate
on my nose. She would laugh and take a picture of me before cleaning it all up.
That way she could show the picture to Daddy later on. Now I really hope
she won't have hot chocolate ready. We can make a whole day of it.
I try two times to get up on the
couch. I am small for my age. I am not very good at climbing. I look up at
Mommy and smile. I hope she would see me, get happy, and sit with me for a
while.
Mommy looks down at me and pats me
on the head. Then she says, "Move, before you mess up my blanket."
I don't say anything as I get off
the couch and walk to my room. I close the door and sit in the corner of my
room and then cry. I cry for a long time. The only thing that stops me is
falling asleep.
Then I see Friend. He wipes my
tears (I guess I am crying in my dreams too) and squats next to me. He is very
nice, like always.
He never asks me what's wrong. He
knows I don't like that question. People ask you that when they really don't
want you to be sad, 'cause it makes problems for them. That's how they tell you
to be nice and not embarrass your parents. People never ask you that question 'cause
they really want to help you.
Friend puts his big arms around me,
and I hug him back, sobbing as loud as I can. We talk in my head so that I don't
have to talk out loud. He knows I hate talking out loud.
Friend: It's okay, Morggie.
Me: I feel sad.
Friend: I know you do. It will
be okay.
Me: I wish I was special or
loved.
Friend: You are VERY special
and more loved than you realize. Don't ever be sad.
I sob until I don't feel like
crying anymore. I smile. He laughs and takes my hand. We walk for a very long
time next to a river.
When I open my eyes and find myself
back in the corner of my room, I don't feel like crying anymore.
* * *
I hated waking up at age 23, in the
hospital of all places,
feeling, and whether-"
"-whether or not I'm going to
try to kill myself again, right?" I finished, craning my neck to peer over
to the hallway. Was there anyone who could come in and save me from this quack?
I was almost desperate enough to see if Erica was available. Almost.
He sighed so quietly, it was barely
audible. "Yes," he said simply. "Talk to me. Tell me what's on
your mind. Why do the rumors bother you so much?"
I was growing more and more
impatient with him for reasons I did not understand. "I don't mean to be
rude or anything, Dr. Hearse, but do you mind coming back later? I kind of want
to sleep now. I'm feeling… tired ."
A moment passed, and I dared to
look back at him to see his reaction. He pursed his lips, thinking, and then
nodded slowly. "Yes, of course. I'll come back when you're feeling better.
If you feel like talking to me before then, let one of the nurses know, and
they'll get me, okay?" He didn't wait for my reply before heading towards
my door. He opened it, started to walk through, then paused and turned to face
me briefly. "And it's Dr. Hirsch, not Hearse, just in case you weren't
sure."
I chuckled briefly, which surprised
me. "Hearse is better."
He smiled to himself before walking
out the door.
Chapter 5
I didn't and wouldn't accept that
Friend would never appear to me again, never again encourage me and listen to
my words of sadness.
I had never intended to create him,
but he filled in the gaps of the worn-out road of my life.
An older memory—my fifth and last
hospital dream—reminded me of this.
* * *
I'm 7 years old. On TV, I see a
little story. A girl climbs on the couch with her mommy. The mommy smiles and
gets out a mug of hot chocolate. She gives it to the girl. They both laugh and
hug. The girl drinks her hot chocolate.
I run to the room where my mommy is sitting. I would also like to hug Mommy and drink hot chocolate. If
she does not have hot chocolate, that would be OK. Maybe we could make some
together. That might even be funner! I might make a mess or get some chocolate
on my nose. She would laugh and take a picture of me before cleaning it all up.
That way she could show the picture to Daddy later on. Now I really hope
she won't have hot chocolate ready. We can make a whole day of it.
I try two times to get up on the
couch. I am small for my age. I am not very good at climbing. I look up at
Mommy and smile. I hope she would see me, get happy, and sit with me for a
while.
Mommy looks down at me and pats me
on the head. Then she says, "Move, before you mess up my blanket."
I don't say anything as I get off
the couch and walk to my room. I close the door and sit in the corner of my
room and then cry. I cry for a long time. The only thing that stops me is
falling asleep.
Then I see Friend. He wipes my
tears (I guess I am crying in my dreams too) and squats next to me. He is very
nice, like always.
He never asks me what's wrong. He
knows I don't like that question. People ask you that when they really don't
want you to be sad, 'cause it makes problems for them. That's how they tell you
to be nice and not embarrass your parents. People never ask you that question 'cause
they really want to help you.
Friend puts his big arms around me,
and I hug him back, sobbing as loud as I can. We talk in my head so that I don't
have to talk out loud. He knows I hate talking out loud.
Friend: It's okay, Morggie.
Me: I feel sad.
Friend: I know you do. It will
be okay.
Me: I wish I was special or
loved.
Friend: You are VERY special
and more loved than you realize. Don't ever be sad.
I sob until I don't feel like
crying anymore. I smile. He laughs and takes my hand. We walk for a very long
time next to a river.
When I open my eyes and find myself
back in the corner of my room, I don't feel like crying anymore.
* * *
I hated waking up at age 23, in the
hospital of all places,
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